


Misguided Ghosts

by majcrtom



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt, Minor Violence, hints of Mercy76, moral of the story: don't run off without ur team bad things will happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7171526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majcrtom/pseuds/majcrtom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack scouts ahead alone during a mission and finds himself in a tight situation, face-to-face with someone he really wasn't expecting to run into. Things don't go in his favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> me: this is my favourite character look at him i must PROTECT HIM  
> also me: time for pain
> 
> (i'm sorry 76 ily)

76's footsteps were heavy and quick as he sprinted around a corner, throwing his back to the wall just as an Omnic exploded half a dozen feet away. He let out a heavy breath, his age catching up to him in that brief moment. Once he'd regained his stamina he pushed away from the wall and raised his pulse rifle. In the near distance he could hear his teammates fighting, but he'd decided to cautiously scout ahead and get an idea of the control that the enemy had over the area.

After checking that the coast was clear he turned another corner down a narrow street. And something caught his eye. A few feet in front of him, lying on the cobblestones, was an Omnic’s head, sparking and buzzing as if it had been blown clear off its body. The team hadn't pushed this far forward yet, and 76 highly doubted that another Omnic had done this. Still, he kept up his pace, slowly moving further down the street. He stopped when his boot collided with something heavy. Glancing down he found a discarded shotgun, all black with silver decals. He’d recognise them anywhere.

"Nice of you to drop by, Jack." A deep, almost non-human voice rumbled in Jack’s ear. He barely had time to spin around before the barrel of a gun was rammed into his stomach, knocking the wind from him. Jack was then shoved roughly against the nearest wall, his rifle falling to the floor in the process. His heart rate sped up as he found himself face to face with Reaper's mask.

"Reyes-" he growled, choking out a breath when a forearm was pressed against his throat firmly. He was also very aware of the shotgun barrel still pressing insistently into his gut.

"Abandoning your teammates? You’re making a bad habit of this.” Reaper chuckled darkly.

 Jack struggled against his attacker. Due to his height and strength he wasn't used to being overpowered so easily. It was useless; he was pinned. Reaper removed his arm from Jack's throat, allowing him to suck in a rapid breath, and reached up to tear Jack's visor from his face, revealing the scarred features beneath.

"You really did get old didn't you." Reaper laughed, discarding the visor on the ground.

"Nngh...You looked in a mirror recently?" Jack quipped, and immediately regretted it when Reaper's fist collided with his jaw, the force actually throwing his head back against the wall. He groaned, but before his head fell forward Reaper grabbed it roughly and forced it up.

"Fuck you, Morrison." He hissed. "You know I could kill you right now. Blow your insides all over this alley. And nobody would be able to do anything about it."

Jack was still horribly aware of the shotgun barrel pushing into him, so hard that it would bruise.

"No, you won't." Jack fixed a steely glare on the skull mask inches away from him. He couldn't see the face beneath, but he could tell that Reyes’ jaw had clenched. Silence hung for a moment, and then the shotgun was lifted and swung, hitting Jack square on the side of his head. It was so forceful that he was knocked to the floor, sliding down the wall pathetically. He might've been able to counter the swing if his head hadn't still been spinning from the earlier punch.

"Getting slow in your old age, Jack?" Reaper hummed, reaching down to grab Jack's jacket lapels and lifted him off the ground. Before Jack had a chance to speak, Reaper's fist connected with his face again. "How's it feel, _Commander_?" Reaper spat at him, purposely emphasising the last word.

"Being-"

_Punch._

 "-beaten?"

_Punch._

Reaper grabbed fistfuls of the soldier’s jacket and shook him roughly.

" _How does it feel?!_ ” He roared, furious.

Jack was a mess. Unable to struggle, blood dripping from his nose and mouth, bruises forming on his cheekbones and jawline.

"Gabriel-" Jack rasped. He felt a hand closing around his throat, the metal claws adorning the fingertips digging into his neck.

"Gabriel Reyes died when Jack Morrison did." Reaper said lowly. The squeak of leather was actually audible as his hand tightened around the shotgun.

"Do it. Kill me." Jack said, voice slightly slurred.

Reaper held still for a moment, but the sound of approaching footsteps echoing off the walls caught his attention and Jack saw the slight tilt of his head as it registered.

"No." Reaper eventually said, and released the man beneath him, letting him fall back to the ground with a low thud. "Don't be so sure you'll survive our next meeting."

He kicked Jack’s pulse rifle, sending it skidding over the cobblestone pavement, and then he was gone in a cloud of smoke.

Jack released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding in and let his head fall back against the ground. He thought, as he lay sprawled hopelessly on the narrow road, the taste of blood lingering on his tongue, that he heard a voice calling his name.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow sorry this update has taken me so long! i'm awful  
> hope you continue to enjoy me ruining jack morrison's life

“76? 76?! Jack!” Tracer called, looking this way and that in search of their former commander -although, actually, he’d rather unwillingly taken up the position again in the newly formed group. She groaned when she received no response other than her voice echoing back at her. “Where the hell is he?!”

  
It was dark now, the empty streets lit by the few streetlamps that still worked and the burning piles of hostile Omnic remains that now littered the area. The battle was over, thankfully, though – granted - it had been a challenge.

  
“It is unlike him to abandon his teammates.” Reinhardt said matter-of-factly, pulling off his helmet. Tracer folded her arms, brow creasing with a mixture of worry and contemplation.

  
“Guess we’re waitin’, then.” McCree promptly sat on a half broken bench and lit up a cigar.

 

//

  
In an alley only a few dozen yards away, Jack Morrison was lying half unconscious on the street.

  
“Need to….get….back….team….”

  
He was barely able to think straight. With a groan through gritted teeth the man pushed himself up onto his forearms, mustering up whatever dregs of strength he had left to do so. Blood dripped from his face onto the pavement beneath him, and with one last push he managed to get to his feet, albeit shakily. Almost immediately he fell against the wall, but managed to keep upright with one hand on the wall and began the slow trudge back to where he’d left his teammates, first retrieving his pulse rifle and now cracked visor from where Reaper had kindly thrown them.

  
As he slowly struggled back down the winding street, Jack’s head spun. Why had Reyes been reluctant to kill him? He certainly hadn’t held back when beating him half to death. He could still hear that voice in his head…

  
**_"How's it feel, Commander?"_ **

  
Jack’s boots scuffed along the ground as he practically dragged himself forward, the wall beside him his only leverage.

  
**_“Being beaten?”_ **

  
It wasn’t long until he was able to make out voices echoing towards him. Was that McCree? Or was he just imagining things?

  
_**“How does it feel?!”** _

//

  
“Oh so you’re happy to just sit on your arse while someone is missing?” Tracer huffed indignantly, hands landing on her hips as she stood in front of the cowboy.

  
“Listen darlin’ it ain’t my fault the old man wandered off on his own.” McCree drawled, tipping his hat up.

  
“Don’t ‘darlin’ me! You bloody-“

  
“Hey I don’t see you volunteerin’ to go look for ‘im.” McCree replied hotly. Tracer glared at him and opened her mouth to form a snarky comment but was interrupted.

  
“Sh! What was that?” Reinhardt said suddenly, the sound of something heavy landing with a thud having caught his attention. Tracer turned on her heel, arms dropping back down to her sides.

  
“I heard it too.” With a flash of blue she blinked around the nearby corner and audibly gasped at what she saw. “Shit- Jack?!”

  
It had been the impact of his pulse rifle and visor hitting the floor that had made the noise they had heard prior. The soldier looked up at the sound of her voice, barely hanging onto consciousness.

“…Lena…” he rasped, and then his legs gave way and he fell unforgivingly to the floor. It was so unlike him to use her real name. In fact she couldn’t remember the last time he had used it. Tracer was on her knees beside him in a nanosecond, pulling his head into her lap.

  
He looked up at her, though it was clear that it was taking a lot of willpower for him to keep his eyes open.

  
“Re…yes...” was the only word he managed to say before his eyes fell shut, his head lolling to the side.

  
“Reyes?” She questioned desperately. “Jack?!” Tracer shook him gently, but he was out cold. “Hey I need some help over here! _Right now!_ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! <3
> 
> this fic will probably only be 3 chapters long, but I'll try and get the last part up quickly :>
> 
> also thank you guys for the feedback and kudos!! really means a lot that you've enjoyed this, I'll deffo be writing more OW stuff :-)
> 
> (my tumblr: http://clinteastwoocl.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's taken me literally forever to get this up...
> 
> finally got this last chapter done though!

“Jack!”

Jack forced his eyes open, hanging on to whatever sliver of consciousness he had left. All he saw at first was a mess of dark, blurred shapes which wouldn’t seem to focus.

“Jack, can you hear me?”

The blur of colour in front of him began to slowly merge into solid shapes, and finally he settled on a pair of familiar, soft blue eyes, then to the golden wings that framed Mercy’s figure. There were other voices nearby – Tracer’s he recognised, and McCree’s, among others.

“Angela-“ he said, with significant difficulty. “Reaper…he was here – Ga….Gabe was-“ he was trying to push himself up, clearly trying to disregard the fact that he’d just had half the life beaten out of him. Angela gently eased him back down with firm hands on his shoulders.

“Lie still.” Her voice was authoritative, a reminder of her impressive medical and scientific career.

Jack tried to stifle a groan of pain, a suggestion that he’d aggravated injuries he wasn’t aware he’d sustained.

As Angela knelt by his side, awaiting the backup that she’d called for, she took in just how defeated he looked. And it made her heart sink.

He was a super soldier, a war hero, a man who had seemingly defied death itself. And yet now he was barely able to move himself, a mixture of dirt and his own blood gathered in the hard lines that were etched into his features. She bit her lip, for once in her life feeling powerless to aid him further. With steady hands she reached to release what remained of his mask, and subsequently lifted it off.

Without the mask he was….well, just a man. He hadn’t changed much, and Angela could see that just from looking at his face. Perhaps he was a little rougher around the edges now, with a few more scars, but underneath it all he was still Jack Morrison.

Jack managed to mumble something incoherent before he lost consciousness again.

 

* * *

 

When he woke next he wasn’t lying in an empty street. He was…in bed. He blinked until his eyes focused on the lights above him and then tried to sit up, but just ended up groaning as his body seemed to ache in every place imaginable. His attention was caught by the door opening, and he tilted his head towards the visitor.

“Jack.” Angela seemed surprised to see him awake, but she smiled anyway. “Guten morgen.” She said brightly. He frowned.

“I…how long have I been out?” An odd first question perhaps, but he asked it anyway. She had walked across to his bedside and was checking his vitals on a data pad.

“Nearly 16 hours.” She informed him. “Do you remember what happened?”

She met his gaze as he looked up at her and immediately she had her answer. He sure as hell hadn’t forgotten about the previous night’s events.

“Help me sit up, would you.” He said quietly, clearly reluctant to elaborate on the matter.

“Oh, of course.” She helped him into a sitting position and pulled the pillows up behind him. He leant back against them and sighed, trying his very best not to aggravate any injuries. Angela bit her lip briefly and then set the data pad down, turning to him.

 “Jack, If you want to talk about what happe-“ she began, but he interrupted quickly.

“No. I don’t. I don’t want to fucking talk about it. Talking about it isn’t going to change a damn thing!”

His outburst was unexpected, and she actually took a small step back. Immediately afterwards he sighed and closed his eyes.

“Sorry…I’m sorry.” He said, his voice much quieter, so much so that it had lost its usual growl. The mattress dipped as Angela sat on the edge of it. She wanted to help him, she wanted to help him so much and it was killing her that she couldn’t _do_ anything.  

“Guess I’ve never been much of a talker.” He said with a forced laugh.

“Jack…” she rested one hand on his cheek, gently due to the bruises on his face. He looked up at her and in that short moment when her eyes met his he was the 30-year-old Overwatch commander again.

She wordlessly pulled him into a hug. He found himself burying his face in her shoulder, letting her hold him and card her fingers through his hair.

Jack had too many demons, too many bad memories. He kept them locked away but sometimes they were overwhelming.

“I’ve got you.” Angela said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. He held onto her tighter, knowing that he’d have to face everyone else soon.

But maybe everything would be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So kind of a bittersweet ending, hope you enjoyed the fic! :> Jack's a tough cookie <3


End file.
